This Isn't What You Deserve
by Adore-Aku
Summary: One hundred short stories of implied AkuRoku fanfiction.
1. 000: Information

This Isn't What You Deserve

This Isn't What You Deserve.

Prompt #0: Information.

**This Isn't What You Deserve** is a series of one hundred short stories based on the AkuRoku fan pairing.

_All of these stories are purely fan written and I am clearly in no way associated with the developers. All of the characters belong to Square Enix and Disney and/or are used without permission._

There may be spoilers in here, and if they are 'major' I will mention that in the chapter to warn readers.

This is not a story consisting of one hundred chapters, so it can be read in and out of sequence. It is simply one hundred individual short stories based off of the prompt table created by the leaders of the _Yaoi Manga 100 Fanfics Community__ on Live Journal. I am not actually a part of this group._

The rating has been set to teen due to implied homosexuality and to allow me a bit more flexibility further down the line. In the beginning it is suitable for all ages.


	2. 001: Future

This Isn't What You Deserve

This Isn't What You Deserve.

Prompt #1: Future.

The sky held a tangerine hue that cast dancing silhouettes upon the glass doors in the Station Plaza. The day was aging rapidly and the idle residents of the town were slowly making their way home.

Far above the pedestrians, two boys are seated upon the clock tower. The face behind them is only several hours away from illuminating the skies with its radiance. But until then the setting sun is their only source of light.

Roxas stares down at the people as they walk without haste, leaning forward slightly to see those directly below him. From this high up it is difficult to place names to each of the local folk, but it isn't impossible.

"You're going to fall," Axel remarked.

Leaning back a little, Roxas cranes his neck to look towards the elder of the pair. He's met with a smirk and can see a wicked glint in those emerald eyes. Really the scarlet haired man is only looking out for him. This seemed like a world where only opposites could attract.

He shook his head in denial, "I won't."

In disbelief, Axel shuffles slightly against the wall of the clock face. For safety measures, he's keeping himself as far away from the edge of the possible. There was also the fact that he didn't want to be found. Right now he belonged to Roxas, and in return the blonde fifteen year old was all his.

"You won't jump either, right?" Axel queries with concern. He was fully aware of the younger boy's way of twisting words. He just did it to show himself as the stronger of the two parties. There was no way to prove which of the two was in fact the most capable, because they both refused to fight.

Roxas chewed on his lip for a fraction of a second, "I want to see the future."

Letting his head tip back and his eyes slip closed, Axel takes a moment to mule over this. How was he supposed to explain that there was no future for both of them? This town was _his_ creation, and as soon _he_ was done with it then that was the end. He didn't want to have to be the one to mention it, to explain to Roxas that all his hopes and dreams for the future had all ready been pre-determined.

Reaching blindly forward, he took Roxas's hand within his own and held it firmly. Heart beating a steady but remorseful rhythm, he chose to keep the secrets he knew to himself. He could carry the burden alone.

Axel sighed softly, "You'll see it. I promise."


	3. 002: Memory

This Isn't What You Deserve

This Isn't What You Deserve.

Prompt #2: Memory.

The Usual Spot had long been abandoned after the fall of dusk, and there in the tranquil scene the fire began to burn. The ember of aggression lit the location, and the boys felt the heat begin to rise in the already warm summer air.

"Just – just forget it," Roxas attempted for the fourth time, as he watched the elder of the two pace the floor. He leant against the arm of the sofa, completely fed up and exhausted. All hostility on his behalf had dwindled down after his argument with Hayner. The rest of the gang felt that he spent way too much time with a certain master of fire.

He disagreed. The other man thought otherwise.

Pausing by the entrance, Axel stopped for a moment and contemplated a response. He shook his head in defeat, "No. Hayner's right. I don't even belong in this world. I should go."

"Don't," Roxas argued weakly, getting up from his slouched position and crossing the room. The scarlet haired man turned and the two met in the middle, they looked each other over and they both understood the situation entirely.

Axel sighed, "I need to get back to the Organization anyway."

Shaking his head violently, Roxas tried to make the problem disappear. But this wasn't a dream, and when he reopened his eyes he only saw the same scene in front of him. He felt his eyes glaze over as the cloaked man turned once more to leave.

Reaching out, he took a hold of Axel's arm and reeled him around. Biting the bullet he stood on tiptoe and kissed the older man full on the lips. For a fraction of a second the serene aura returned, before the elder of the two stepped back.

"This is exactly why I can't stay," he answered in a whisper.

Feeling rejected, Roxas stared down at the floor. He could see Axel's shadow standing stock still in the dim lamplight. With shoulders trembling, he took a step back wondering that if he had restrained himself then maybe the eldest of the pair might have stayed?

Roxas stuttered, "T-T-That's it? Y-You're just going to l-leave?"

Stepping forward, Axel took the younger boy's chin in between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it upwards. Meeting those moist cerulean eyes, he knew that leaving was the only way to satisfy _almost_ everyone.

"I want to stay," he spoke softly. "It seems we feel the same, and I'd rather stay and see what could have become of this."

"But…" Roxas encouraged the older man to continue.

"But," Axel stopped for a moment, to think over his wording. Unable to think of something suitable, he just explained that "the townsfolk don't want me to stay."

Roxas opened his mouth to protest, but shut it almost instantly. For a moment the two just stood that way together in the middle of the room. Axel was the first to break the stillness, leaning forward ever so slightly and brushing his lips softly against Roxas'.

"I'll come back one day," he promised. "Until then, make love to the memories."

"Don't leave," Pence interrupted, disturbing the scene. He came through the entrance, and for a moment stood dumbstruck as he watched the two boy's part in the room. Regaining himself, he said, "Hayner does have a conscience you know, he'll come around."

"A conscience?" Axel repeated blankly, as if not knowing the meaning of the word.

Pence nodded.

Axel crossed the room, once more stopping at the exit. Half-way through the fencing, he turned back and said simply, "It's a little late for one of those."


	4. 003: Passion

This Isn't What You Deserve

This Isn't What You Deserve.

Prompt #3: Passion

Your every moment is a masterpiece.

Did the possibility that your life could be an obra maestra ever strike you as peculiar? Right now you probably believe that this is a faux pas, and that your life couldn't resemble anything worth worshipping at all. This isn't true.

I've been watching you, Roxas. For a while now as you've wandered The World That Never Was I've kept my eyes upon you. Day in, day out, you're the one who now keeps me alive. We don't have hearts, but you've caught my eye definitely.

Communication comes in small packages between you and I, and I put this mild impression of affection to the back of my mind when we speak. Our conversations are strictly professional, and even though you're the one who fuels the flame of my candle I won't let this infatuation progress any further.

"Axel?"

A voice disrupts my thought, and reluctantly I let my eyes drift from your form across the room. I glance upwards at the grinning face of number nine, and he sits down on the weathered sofa beside me. The neck of his sitar lies across his lap, and he plucks at one string casually before raising an eyebrow.

"No," I shake my head and keep my voice low and answer the unspoken question, "I haven't spoken to him yet."

Demyx rolls his eyes, obviously not expecting anything more from me. Was I really that predictable? I'd told number nine that I would speak with you, but really that was the last thing I was going to do. I'd rather empty the savage nymph's bathroom bin than converse over feelings I supposedly don't actually possess.

"Good," Demyx smirked.

I quizzically raise my eyebrows, focusing all of my attention on him rather than you for the moment. I cock my head, scanning his visage for any hints of what was going on inside his mind.

Moving the sitar to prop it up against the sofa, Demyx is quick to straddle my lap. His face still bearing that obnoxious leer, he leans his chest forward upon my own, and exhales a breath of warm air into my ear, "This means that it isn't against the rules for me to do this."

Promptly the blonde attaches his lips to mine, his right hand resting at the base of my neck, and his left sweeping down my side. Shuddering, I return the kiss as he snakes his tongue into the mix of flesh on flesh. His ocean blue eyes close over as he takes dominance, showing just what he was capable of.

Unfocused, my eyes glance over as much as the room as possible from my position. In doing so I realise that out of all thirteen organization members you're the only one watching us.

My lips coil into a smirk, and I then turn my full attention onto Demyx. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer. I let my eyes drift closed, knowing that yours are still focused upon us.

This isn't love, this isn't lust, this isn't passion, and this isn't desire.

I just enjoy putting on a show to catch your attention. And from your reaction Roxas, I'm guessing that it worked.


	5. 004: Light

This Isn't What You Deserve

This Isn't What You Deserve.

Prompt #4: Light

The curtains were long drawn, and the lanterns had long gone out. Cloaks were hung on pegs and had long lost warmth. Sheets of beds lay strewn upon half-clad bodies, a loss of consciousness present among a dozen of them.

Upon the final bed, number thirteen sat with torch in hand and pen in the other. The nib scratched the page with a delicate touch, barely making a mark as he wrote out his confession. The dim light only illuminated the world to a small degree, but it was more than he needed right now. No one could lean over his shoulder and read the words.

The soft breeze from an opened window flicked at the edges of the paper, the noise sounding one hundred times louder in the serene world. His breath hitched in his throat, and his thumb ran over the button of the flashlight on instinct. Without thought he tossed the torch without care under the bed as well as the pencil. Most likely he was making even more of a racket in the process. Leaning forward, he pressed his torso down against the notebook in attempt to hide the evidence.

A few moments past in which all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the shuffling of sheets. He held his breath to try and hush the room as he heard a door creak upon down the hallway. The reverberating footsteps of an all too familiar presence came closer to the room in which the key of destiny chose to reside. Soon enough, they passed and continued on down the corridor.

Stunned, the boy rolled onto his back. His chest heaved with anxiety, and he could feel his pulse in his temples. Closing his eyes, he massaged them gently as he thought of just how inane he was being. A soft smile escaped his lips, and he exhaled a warm breath of air.

No longer than a minute or two later the footsteps were heard again coming back along the hall, and just as precaution Roxas rolled back onto his stomach atop the notebook. His eyes slipped closed once more as his other senses heightened, listening closely to the movement of another organization member.

Rattling in the door, the handle turned and the blonde boy's eyes widened. It was too late to try and dive beneath the covers and fake sleep, and he just hoped that the intruder would turn away. They didn't.

A tall form slipped into the room, and pushed the door closed behind them. They crossed over to the bedside table quietly, their hand reaching out for the lamp switch. Soon enough the room was lit, with a soft yellow tinge to it. The melodious nocturne stood beside it clad in an azure bathrobe, a glass of water in hand.

"What are you still doing up, Roxas?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and passing the glass. His ocean eyes were held firmly on the young adolescent as he took a sip, and he patiently waited for a response.

Still leant forward, Roxas held the now only half-full glass in one hand and tried to escape number nine's gaze. His attempts proved futile, "No reason."

Demyx's left eyebrow rose ever so slightly, knowing fully just why the younger boy was still awake when the clock was nearing two hundred hours. He just wanted to hear Roxas admit it, but he didn't want to have to suggest the notion to him. He wanted number thirteen to tell him in his own time – it couldn't take too long.

"Really?" he spoke in a disbelieving tone, just to let the younger boy know that he was indeed onto him.

"Yes, really."

Standing, he took the now empty glass from Roxas' hands and shut off the lamp. Footsteps were soon heard, and the black outline of his body could be seen moving towards the door. He coiled his fingers around the handle before turning to face the silhouette of the bed, "Get some sleep."

"Good night," number thirteen spoke in a hushed voice, not indicating whether or not he'd follow orders.

With a coy smile, Demyx opened the door and left the room. He considered standing around for a little while outside to listen to Roxas' next movements, but decided against it. Stifling a yawn, he descended the hallway in search of his own room.

Once more, the key of destiny rolled off of the notebook after coming to the conclusion that he was indeed alone now. He reached one arm out, fishing beneath his bed for the torch and ballpoint pen. Once sought out, he flicked the flashlight on once more and looked down at the pages.

He tapped the pen against his chin for a minute or two, and then looked down at the previously scrawled words. Upon re-reading, he chose to summarise his confession with a single sentence:

'_Demyx is my nightlight, but Axel is my eternal flame.'_


End file.
